


Fridays at the Park

by pallorsomnium



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-20
Updated: 2012-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 12:31:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pallorsomnium/pseuds/pallorsomnium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik, forced to take a vacation he doesn't want, finds himself reading in the park, where a wayward balloon will soon change his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fridays at the Park

**Author's Note:**

> So I joined [cottoncandy_bingo](http://cottoncandy-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) because I couldn’t pass up the chance to write fluff. This ficlet is for the “balloon” square on my card! 
> 
> Thank you so much to [Nekosmuse](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nekosmuse) for beta'ing! <3

On a Friday morning, Erik steps into work and is promptly ambushed by Emma’s mute secretary--actually, he doesn’t know if Janos _is_ mute; the man just never talks, at least not in any instances Erik is aware of-- who gestures for Erik to follow him. 

Erik refrains from huffing in irritation. He has a project he needs to finish in less than a week, but since it’s Janos who’s leading him, then it’s his boss who’s summoned him, and Erik knows better than to ignore a summons from Emma, especially on a Friday. He still shudders when he thinks of Emma’s retaliation the _last_ time he tried that.

Janos knocks on the door to Emma’s office, but doesn’t wait before opening it. He waves Erik inside before departing, leaving Erik to take a seat in front of Emma’s desk. 

Emma looks as immaculately white as ever. She sits at her desk reading what looks like the _New York Times_ on her tablet, barely glancing up at Erik while she finishes her article. Erik scowls at her, but sits back to wait; she’ll only make him wait longer if he says anything.

Five minutes later, she sets the tablet down and finally turns her attention to him.

“Erik, it’s come to my attention that you’ve used not even one of your vacation hours,” she says.

She doesn’t continue, and they sit in silence for several moments before it becomes clear to Erik that she doesn’t plan to. He frowns.

“Yes, so?” he asks. “I would think you’d _want_ your employees to come to work.”

“I do want that, but what I _don’t_ want is for my employees to come crying to me every week because they failed to meet your expectations.”

“It’s not my fault that they’re pathetic and have no common sense.”

Emma has too much grace to roll her eyes, but she looks like she wants to. She sighs and says, “Erik, Azazel’s the only person you’ve worked with who _hasn’t_ burst into tears in this office. I think it’s time you had a break.”

“And what exactly does _that_ mean?” he growls, because if Emma thinks her company could work like the well-oiled machine it is without him--

“It’s summer, Erik. If you don’t plan on taking a month off for a nice vacation, which I doubt even I can make you take, then _you_ are not allowed to work on Fridays for the next three months, starting today.” 

“What?!” Erik is out of his seat and looming over her desk in seconds. Emma simply tilts her head back to met his glare, looking very unimpressed. “I have a project deadline next week, Emma, and you _know_ it’s an important one.”

“And I’m sure your team can survive without you for one day,” Emma remarks, waving a hand flippantly. “They’re all grown-up boys and girls. In the meantime, you are to get out of this building and aren’t allowed to come back until Monday morning.”

“You can’t just _force_ this on me!” Erik protests.

Emma raises an eyebrow at him before saying in that tone that brooks no argument, “Erik. Take the Fridays off, or I will put you through teamwork seminars for the next ten years.”

Erik grimaces. It’s like that saying, between a rock and a hard place. He exhales sharply and nods.

“Fine. I’ll take Fridays off. But if anything goes wrong, I’m not going to be responsible for it.”

“Of course not. Now shoo. Go out and relax for once. I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow.” Erik is already at the door when she adds, “And I do hope you’re not going to sit in your flat all day, Erik. I know where you live.” 

Erik wonders yet again why he ever thought having his best friend--if he can be considered the type of man to have a “best friend”; in any case, Emma is the closest friend he has--as his boss was a good idea. With one last scowl, he closes the door and leaves the building. He wouldn’t put it past Emma to send security after him.

\----

After puttering around his flat aimlessly through the whole morning, Erik decides if he isn’t going to work, he might as well catch up on his reading. Heeding Emma’s warning, he plucks a book from his shelf, pockets his wallet, and takes the short walk down to the neighborhood park two blocks away.

He finds a park bench--miraculously unoccupied and mostly untouched by any sticky substances of unknown origins--and settles down to read his paperback. 

\----

Erik isn’t sure how much time has passed when he’s pulled out of his book by the crunch of footsteps on gravel approaching him. And he has to remember to not drop his book, because the man heading straight for him is very attractive and very much his type--short but not thin as a rail, broad shoulders, freckles across pale skin, bright blue eyes, floppy brown hair, not to mention the impossibly red lips.

The man stops in his tracks when he sees Erik look up, blinking owlishly at him in a way that is much too adorable for a grown man. _Gott_ , he’s in trouble.

Then Erik notices the child, a little boy with one chubby little hand tugging at the man’s hand--or rather, two of his fingers. Any hopes and plans to charm the man into agreeing to a date meet a fiery end. 

The child’s tugging seems to pull the man out of his staring, and the man smiles at Erik, a bit sheepishly but enough to brighten his whole face. Erik curses his luck.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but you’re a tall chap. Would you mind helping us rescue a wayward balloon from that tree?” the man says, nodding to the tree just down the path a bit. _Verdammt_ , Erik would listen to that accent for hours if he could. 

He stares for an awkwardly long moment before he registers what the man is asking him, but sure enough, when he turns his head to look at the tree, there’s a bright red balloon stuck in the higher branches. The string attached to the balloon looks to be just long enough that Erik could jump to reach it.

The man and child both look at him with wide eyes. If someone else had asked him to throw away his dignity to retrieve a silly _balloon_ , Erik would have glared at them until they got the message and left him alone. Instead, he nods and, dog-earing his place in his book, gets to his feet. The two trail after him as he makes his way over to the tree. 

It’s a matter of seconds for him to grab hold of the plastic string and tug the balloon out of the tree branches. He bends down to give the balloon to the boy, who breaks into a huge grin and grabs onto the string tightly.

When Erik straightens, he catches the man giving him another gorgeous smile before resting a hand on the child’s head.

“Now what do we say, Kurt?” he asks.

“Thank you, Mister!” the boy says, bouncing up and down in the process. 

“It’s all right,” Erik replies, feeling wrong-footed. Erik doesn't do well with kids: his face could make children cry with one look, according to Emma. A child has never _smiled_ at him before.

Erik is grateful that the boy--Kurt--didn’t try to hug him, when Kurt then latches onto his father’s leg.

“Really, thank you so much, my friend,” the man says. “I was afraid I’d have to explain to my sister why her son spent the day with me moping.”

And with those words, Erik’s hopes resurrect from the ashes. 

"He's your nephew?" Erik asks, thankfully sounding more casual than hopeful.  
"Oh yes, my sister's darling boy," the man says, giving Kurt a fond pat on the head. "And how rude of me. Charles. Thank you so much for your help."

He offers Erik a hand, which he takes with constrained relish. Charles. His name is Charles; it suits him. Charles’ hand is warm and fits nicely in Erik’s, his grip strong and sturdy, _reassuring_. Erik lets go of his hand before he ends up wanting to never let go.

“Erik.” 

“Erik. Well, thank you so much, Erik.” Charles’s smile is brighter than ever, chasing all the words from Erik’s head and leaving him floundering inside and blinking at the man.

Charles looks like he wants to say more, but strains of a ridiculous pop song burst out from his pocket. 

“I’m sorry, I should take this,” he says, pulling out a cellphone and glancing at the screen. He visibly starts. “Oh, Kurt and I are going to be late. I’m so sorry, but we’d best be on our way,” he tells Erik, looking as apologetic as if he’s just told Erik his pet has died.

Erik swallows as his hopes die a second death.

“It’s all right. Goodbye, Charles.”

“Goodbye, Erik.” Charles gives him a small smile before taking Kurt’s hand. He finally answers his phone as he walks away.

Erik watches Charles and his nephew go down the path, red balloon bouncing in the air in their wake. He then goes back to his bench, collects his book, and heads home. Silly as it is, he feels like he’s missed the chance of his lifetime, and he’s in no mood to sit around and read anymore.

\----

Erik spends his weekly lunch with Emma in a surlier mood than usual, but Emma probably thinks it’s because of the enforced Fridays off. His mood continues throughout the week, though the project finishes miraculously without any complications, and Emma glares at him whenever she sees him.

_The Fridays off are to make you *less* insufferable, not more,_ Emma texts him Thursday morning.

Erik doesn’t bother replying. He deletes the message.

\----

On Friday, Erik ends up in the park again, reading the same book from last week. 

An hour or two passes, and he’s close to finishing his book, when someone sits down next to him and remarks: 

“Good book?”

That voice. Erik looks up from his book, and sure enough, Charles is there, looking every inch as attractive as he had a week ago. Erik can’t resist breaking into a smile, regardless of how menacing his smile allegedly is.

“Charles.”

“Erik.” 

Charles smiles back at him, bright and perfect. And Erik _won’t_ let this chance slip away again. He gets to his feet and holds out a hand.

“Have coffee with me?” he asks.

Charles looks up at him with wide eyes, the most adorable flush spreading across his cheeks. Then he laughs and says, “Quite forward, aren’t you, my friend?”

“I make a habit of going for what I want,” Erik replies, voice low and suggestive.

Charles laughs yet again, and _Gott_ , he will never tire of hearing it. 

“Well then, by all means,” Charles says, then takes his hand. Erik never wants to let go.


End file.
